


Not Broken, Just Bent

by shadowNova



Category: Original Work
Genre: Child Abuse, Childhood, Disability, Gen, Magic, Mental Instability, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 16:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowNova/pseuds/shadowNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wasn't stupid. She knew she wasn't. And she wasn't broken, either. No, she was none of that.<br/>She just wasn't there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Broken, Just Bent

Despite what many would have you think, Jraan was no less intelligent than you or I. In fact, she was surprisingly smart, all things considered. No, intelligence was not the issue at all.

 

The fact is, Jraan never spoke. Not a word. It wasn’t that she was mute, either. She could vocalize plenty- and did, in the rare occasion that something managed to get through to the girl.

 

Jraan, you see, was brain damaged. Everyone knew it- it was the gossip on the street on slow days, about that ‘poor dear, what could have happened to her?’ And something had happened, everyone knew this as well. How could they not, when so many had seen Miaricohn carrying her, left hand crushed, and illucid, to the healers, so many years earlier. No one knew what, though- not even her attentive elder brother, so protective of her. There were rumors, of course, there always were, but the fact was, they had no evidence, or even a place to start looking.

 

Some blamed the Sedra. After all, they were, of course, ‘warring’ houses. (A war that really was more of a rivalry, not at all like the Matea and Riados’s feud.) But the Sedra’s child, (Not a child, of course not a child, much too old to be a child,) had come and visited the girl, often, and so, the Sedra were thrown out of the picture.

 

And some blamed the Matea, but no, it couldn’t have been them, the eldr, the Archon, Friadon, wouldn’t have permitted such a thing, of course not, not with her fanatical protection of the city's children. So no, it wasn’t the Matea.

 

The Riados, the blood mages, were of course suspects- but no, their youngest, Kasin, was keeping them all busy, treating everyone as his playthings, but even he wouldn’t have gone after the little girl. Why would he? She scarcely had enough blood in her to fuel a cantrip, according to him.

 

So, there were no suspects. And the family mourned, and the north did with them, for the little girl, once so happy and bright, now watched a world they could never be part of.

 

“Jraan?”

 

The voice woke the ten year old from her musings, her eyes flickering. “Jraan, love? Can you look at me?” Her head turned, in a way that to others may be unbearingly slow, but to her, was dizzingly fast, just a fraction, to glance at the boy- man- near her. Who...? What- she couldn’t remember. Where was she, who was he? She wanted her brother, where was her brother?

 

A heartbroken look covered his face. “Oh, Jraan...” He whispered, pulling her lithe figure towards himself and hugging her gently. Oh. Right. This was her brother, her Miaricohn, her protector. As soon as she recalled this, she slipped her left arm, as quickly as she could manage- nauseatingly so, to her- around his waist, trying to return the hug.

 

The boy let go, a fake smile across his face. He thought she didn’t notice, of course. But she did. She noticed more than anyone thought, really. The cheer in his voice, when he spoke next, that wasn’t real, either. “Do you want to hear a story, Jraan?” A story? Her mind perked up. What kind of story, she wanted to ask, but of course, she couldn’t voice it. Still, her brothr, her protector, seemed to know anyway, as his cheer became less forced.

 

"What about a story about the other Alliance Born's? Would you like that, Jraan?" Yes! She would, she really would! She moved her hand, left palm up, (the left, always the left, never the right, it hurt, hurt too much, no,) and focused on it. She didn’t feel the breeze that entered the room, or the dust tickling her skin as she formed little statuettes of the four of them- her, two elderly men, and an old lady. He smiled gently at her when she finished, nodding. “Yes, them.” He launched into a vivid tale of the first Void born- but suddenly, she wasn’t there.

 

She was seven years in the past,w sitting so calmly and neatly in a bed that dwarfed her three year old form. She didn’t understand why everyone was so upset, or what was happening at all, really. She tuned them out- it hurt to listen, anyway. Hurt to think. It was all too much, too fast. What had happened? She didn't remember. Not really. Oh, she could vaguely recall, if she pushed herself, but that hurt, so she didn’t, wouldn’t, instead staring at the wall.

 

It was a nice wall, really. So bumpy, though. Why was it bumpy? She dimly heard people speaking, calling her name- but acknowledging it meant returning to reality, to the pain. She wouldn’t, couldn’t. So she kept watching the wall, all unknowing that just next to her, her big brother sat crying.

 

She was back in reality now. Oh, he was speaking again? Had she missed the story? She turned her face back towards him, wondering what he had said. She watched him sigh, and distantly felt him take her right hand in both of his- they were so much bigger than hers, why was that- and pull her to her feet. “Come on, Jraan...” He told her gently, leading her out into the hall. Oh. It was lunch time, wasn’t it?

 


End file.
